#matteo is such a bastard

[3llisarts]

Matteo Rossi - appreciation post

You thought I had a wip to share? hA

*Gif creds to their respective owners < 3

I fuckin love my lil sarcastic son

[obsessedwithceleste]

All’s Fair in Love and Quidditch

Theodore Nott x Ravenclaw Reader

Summary: All’s fair in love and quidditch. At least until Matteo’s poorly aimed bludger knocks you off of your broom.

word count: 3.7k

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

“Get your wand. Out of my face.” You growl between clenched teeth, glaring up at the tall boy in front of you whose wand was dangerously close to the tip of your nose.

Theodore Nott. You’d first met the boy in third year on the quidditch pitch after his team had beat yours. It had been a long and grueling match and the only reason they’d won is because of that bloody snitch. Ravenclaw had been up in points the entire match. You remember the boy smirking at you as you lowered your broom to the ground.

“Better luck next time principessa.” He’d said.

You’d taken that personally, and the very next week, you’d stolen the position of top of the class in potions from him. This had apparently acted as a declaration of war as the two of you began constantly finding ways to outdo one another.

You seethed with hatred for the boy. Constantly challenging you in classes, on the pitch, even at prefects meetings. You two simply could not see eye to eye; which he constantly reminded you was likely because he was well over half a foot taller than you. Bloody bastard. It didn’t help that the boy was aggravatingly handsome. A detail you couldn’t help but appreciate as he loomed above you. Still, you glare on.

Despite the immediate threat of peril, you remained surprisingly calm knowing that, while you and Theodore may be intense rivals, he’d never actually harm you. At least you hoped. You’d seen his knuckles bloodied plenty of times before, but he’d never harmed so much as a hair on your head. Yet.

Theo’s words shake you back into the present.

“Then get off the bloody pitch. Like we said, we have the pitch booked until 7.”

“No, we booked it starting at 6. We have a signed slip from Flitwick,” You retort.

You watch Theodore’s eyes flick over to the piece of paper Cho was now brandishing smugly before whipping around to his teammates behind him.

“What the hell Malfoy. You were supposed to have Snape reserve the field!” He shouts.

You roll your eyes at the bickering boys. This is one of the many reasons you disliked the male population of Slytherin house. Wildly disorganized, yet still expecting to have everything handed to them.

“I did! They must’ve bloody double booked it!” Draco replies, glaring at the paper.

“Well then it looks like either you all leave, or we’re sharing,” you say decidedly, much to the grumbling of your teammates.

Theo scowls at you. “We gathered as much thanks- we’re not idiots.”

You give the boy a sugary sweet smile. “You’re doing an awfully good impression of it then.” You reply, hoping that if you annoyed him enough, he’d leave already.

You watch the boy’s jaw and fists clench tightly as his scowl deepens before he turns and stalks off.

“C’mon. I’m not dealing with that bloody witch today.” He snaps at his teammates who follow hesitantly, but not before shooting some nasty looks over their shoulders.

Once they’re out of earshot, you hear your teammates burst into laughter.

“That was bloody brilliant!” One of your beaters calls out, leaning on his broom as he shakes with laughter.

“Oh y/n, he so likes you,” Cho snickers as she pushes past you onto the field.

Your jaw drops open at that and you rush after the girl.

“Excuse you, you can’t just walk off after dropping something so wildly ridiculous on me like that,” you protest, mirroring your friend as she hops on her broom and takes off into the air.

“Oh please. I could cut the sexual tension between you two with a well placed diffindo charm. And he’d never give in to anyone else that easily. Now heads up or your head will be taken off by that bludger,” she responds easily, dodging out of the path of the ball hurtling towards you.

You quickly follow, barely managing to side sweep the bludger before turning back to your friend. Before you’re able to further probe her however, she’s taken off in search of the elusive snitch.

You try to shake off her words as you continue to fly through practice, joining your fellow chasers as they go head to head with your keeper, trying to make a shot through one of the hoops.

“Nice shot, y/n! Better keep that aim up for the game this weekend. I wanna beat those snakes so bad,” the keeper shouts as you make throw past him.

“Not a chance in hell those slithering bastards are taking the cup again,” you reply with a grin.

“Excited to see your little witch today?” Matteo asks, plopping himself into his seat next to Theo.

Theo glares at his curly haired friend, snapping his textbook closed with a grunt.

“She’s not my witch Mattheo. I can’t stand her,” Theo mumbles back.

“Right, right. It’s just y/n this, y/n that. Did you see y/n helping Cormac with charms the other day? He’s such a bloody wanker. Blah, blah, blah.” Enzo says, joining the two boys at the desk next to them.

Theo scowls at his so called friends. So what if he happened to notice you a bit too often? They knew full well that the two of you had a sort of rivalry going on and that he had to keep tabs on you to make sure you didn’t sneak something by him. Constant vigilance and what not.

Before he could defend himself however, you burst through the doors of the potions classroom with a group of your fellow Ravenclaws, coming to take your spot at the desk directly in front of him.

“Hey, thanks for giving us the pitch last night Theodore. Stomping off the field like that, was really such a testament to you being the bigger person.” You say, turning to give the boy an innocent smile as you slide into your seat.

“What can I say, I just know your team will need all the help they can get to try and beat us tomorrow,” Theo replied easily, eyes falling as he notices the hem of your skirt ride up a bit higher than normal as you sit down.

“Aw, that’s so considerate coming from someone whose shooting percentage is barely over 50%.”

Theo’s eyes snap up at this.

You hear Enzo snicker at that before he quickly attempts to cover it up with a loud cough.

“Yeah? It’s so interesting that you know my stats off the top of your head.” Theo retorts.

“They really help build my ego when I feel like I’m playing poorly.”

“So always?”

You glare at the boy, but before you’re able to respond, the professor clears their throat, forcing you to turn in your seat.

As the professor begins droning on about whatever potion it was that you were to be making that day, Theo’s eyes couldn’t help but wander to the pretty witch in front of him. For such a pain in his side, you sure were easy on the eyes. Before he knows it, he feels Mattheo’s elbow digging into his rib cage.

“C’mon lover boy, neither of us are going to pass if you don’t start focusing less on y/n and more on this potion, cause I was not paying attention.” Mattheo grunts, pulling him off his seat and over to the stock of potion ingredients along the back wall.

“I wasn’t even looking at her,” Theo protests, glaring at his friend as he begins pulling ingredients haphazardly off the shelves.

“Right. Because if you were, you’d have noticed that the white ribbon in her hair was crooked. Bothered me the entire time we were sitting there.” Mattheo replies, leaning lazily against the counter.

Theo shoots a nasty look at his friend realizing his eyes had once again wandered over to the witch in question.

“The ribbon in her hair is navy blue you dolt. And it’s not crooked.”

Mattheo gives him a victorious smirk.

“Too true. So glad we cleared up the fact that you were only staring enough to remember the exact color of her hair ribbon and whether or not it was crooked.”

With another smug look over his shoulder, Mattheo saunters back over to their shared desk, leaving Theo to finish collecting ingredients in agitated silence.

Glancing back down at his list, Theo quickly collected the rest of their ingredients, tossing the anjelica, bitter root, and daisy root essence into his basket, careful to not steal any more obvious glances at you.

As he went to return to his seat, the soft petals of the flower assortments sitting neatly in their assigned jars once again caught Theo’s eyes and a small smile grew as a masterful plan began to form.

“That BLOODY, FUCKING SNAKE!” you shriek as you open your quidditch locker to find a stunning bouquet of bright daises and velvet roses propped up against your broom.

Hearing the commotion, Cho rushes over to find you glaring menacingly at the offending flowers, a look of exasperation overtaking her face.

“For Rowena’s sake, not flowers. How dare he. The nerve,” she says dryly.

“Aww. How romantic. That’s so sweet. Are they from Theodore?” One of the other chasers adds, coming to see what all the noise was about.

Your glare shifts to your teammates as they peak into your locker to get a glimpse of the flowers.

“I’m allergic.” You grit out. As if to emphasize your point, you let out a loud sneeze, feeling the pollen reach your nose.

Your teammates’ faces fall slightly at your statement and you go to extract the flowers from your locker.

“Well- I suppose there’s something to be said about the fact that he knows exactly which flowers you’re allergic to, and how he went out of his way to buy them for you?” Cho offers as you toss the flowers onto the bench behind you.

A note flutters to the floor.

“Yes. It can be said that he’s a psychotic wanker with too much free time,” you say, bending down to snatch the note off the ground.

Good luck Principessa, hope you play similarly to how the flowers make you feel xxTheodore

“He literally tried to kill me so I wouldn’t be able to play,” you announce dramatically, thrusting the note card towards Cho who rolls her eyes as she shakes her head at you.

“Alright, we need to focus. Y/n, get rid of those flowers, we don’t need you sniffling all match. Everyone on the pitch in 15!” Cho yells, pulling the team together.

Shaking the thoughts of that damn Slytherin from your mind, you unceremoniously dump the large bouquet into the trash before quickly changing into your robes.

“Everyone remember the new offensive formations? We need to take them by surprise. They’ve gotten way too comfortable running the same defense against every team. Remember. If you can’t see Mattheo or Blaise, they’ve flanked you and there’s already a bludger aimed at the back of your head. Theo and Enzo stick together, third chaser is on their own. Flint is a lefty, if you can, always go for the right hoop. Prioritize y/n, when going for the goal posts unless you think they’ve picked up on it. Don’t worry about me and Draco, focus on gaining a lead. Everyone clear?”

You blink once, soaking in Cho’s words.

“Alright. Let’s get out there and stomp on some snakes.”

Your teammates let out loud whoops as you make your way out to the field, adrenaline beginning to course through your body. The breeze blows gently through your hair and the sun shines softly behind a thin layer of clouds. The perfect day for quidditch.

As you grow closer to the pitch, you can hear the loud cheers and hollers coming from the stands, the faces of your fellow Ravenclaws grinning down at you.

“Coin toss is on you, y/n. Try not to let him rile you up too much, yeah?” Cho says, mounting her broom with the rest of the team.

You nod as they take off and make your way down to the center of the pitch where Hooch is already waiting.

“Ah, y/n! Beautiful day for a match yeah?” She greets as you approach.

You offer a tight smile and nod as you see Theodore approach, cocky smile in place.

“Alright, you two know the drill. Snitch or broomsticks, Ravenclaw, your call, on three,” Hooch says, holding a large gold coin out on her palm.

You feel Theodore’s eyes on you as Hooch tosses the coin into the air.

“Broomsticks.”

The three of you watch as the coin hits the ground, three gleaming broomsticks shining in the sunlight.

Theo’s lips tighten, but he doesn’t say anything.

“We’ll take the ball first then,” you say with a tight lipped smile.

“Very well, go on then, shake hands.”

Swallowing your displeasure, you tentatively extend your hand.

With a lop sided grin, Theo grasps your hand.

“Like your flowers Principessa?”

“They were lovely. Really spruced up the trash can.”

Without another word, the two of you returned to your respective sides of the field, joining your teams in the air.

“We got ball,” you shout, once you’re within earshot of your teammates. The boys let out a whoop of excitement.

“Let’s make this a nice, clean match today, yeah?” Hooch shouts from her place on the field. Without waiting for a response, she points her wand at the chest, waiting below and the lid flies open, releasing the balls within.

Your eyes immediately lock onto the quaffle as it makes its way into the air, diving down and snatching it, a chaser on either side of you. You slip easily into your rhythm of dodging and weaving around your opponents, passing the quaffle around as you make your way to the opposing goal posts.

As the ball is being passed back to you however, Enzo pushes past, intercepting. Cursing under your breath, you whip around, close on his tail.

As if seeing your need, a bludger whizzes straight at Enzo, forcing him to drop the ball into your waiting arms.

This time, you’re able to make it to the opposite side, but with Theo and Enzo close on your tail, you’re forced to surrender the ball to your teammate who narrowly misses.

“Next time!” You shout in encouragement.

This back and forth goes on for what seems like ages, with neither team managing to score a point.

Finally, the ball is back in your arms as you speed towards Flint.

“Don’t choke now, Principessa,” you hear Theodore shout from beside you on the right.

“Please. Save your breath. You’ll probably need it to blow up your next play,” you retort.

“You know your ass is probably jealous of all the shit that comes out of your mouth.” Theo snaps.

“Yeah? You’d love to see my jealous ass wouldn’t you?”

Theo jolts in shock, and that moment is all you need to take a dive to the right, securing the first goal of the match.

It all falls into place after that and soon enough, your team is up 80 points. A comfortable lead, but not enough.

“C’mon guys! C’mon! Keep it up, this one’s ours!” You hear your keeper shout as they toss the quaffle to you.

You nearly fumble the catch as a bludger soars past your broom.

“Stay on her and keep those damn bludgers away!” You vaguely hear Cho call out to one of your beaters as you again make your way to the opposite end of the field.

After scoring two more goals, the Slytherin team finally gets the idea to begin putting more pressure and focus on you, with at least one chaser always guarding you.

“For Rowena’s sake, I don’t even have room to breathe!” you shout as you pass Cho briefly.

As the match continues with no end in sight, Mattheo and Blaise begin to grow bolder, narrowly missing a few heads. Their own teammates’ included.

“Watch it you bloody wanker!” You hear Enzo call out after Blaise nearly takes out the end of his broom.

With a sharp turn, you’re able to break away from his steady pursuit just long enough to safely secure the quaffle once more.

“Dammit Enz,” Theo grunts as he flies up beside you.

You ignore their bickering, eyes taking in the field and your surroundings. You spot your other two chasers gliding below you, gearing up to be positioned for a clear pass. Your beaters are no where in sight, and only Rowena knew where Cho was flying off to.

You make several attempts to lose the two green robed Slytherins on either side of you, but they remain stuck to your side.

Suddenly, you see Enzo’s broom dip. Thinking this is your chance, you turn quickly, trying to see if you have a clear pass to one of your teammates.

“Y/n!” Theo shouts.

But it’s too late.

The last thing you remember is the feeling of falling and strong arms wrapping around you before everything goes black.

When your eyes finally flutter open, the first thing you notice is the sky and how dark it is. What time was it? Slowly, you begin to sit up, a distinct pounding in the back of your head causing you to wince slightly. Looking about, you realize you were in the hospital wing and still in your quidditch robes. Ew.

The next thing you notice, is the mop of soft brown hair lying face down on the hospital bed beside you. As your eyes follow the body down to the chair it’s slumped on, you take in the familiar green robes that distinguish the boy as a Slytherin.

The hairs on your neck prickle as you recognize the boy. How could you not?

“Theodore,” you whisper, giving the boy a poke.

No sign of life.

“Theodore,” you say, a bit louder this time, shaking him gently.

“Shove off Matt. You and Toria can find another place to shag for the night,” he grumbles, shifting further into the coarse hospital bed blanket.

You let out a snort.

“Seriously Theodore, wake up,” you say, growing frustrated.

Finally the boy sits up groggily before appearing to remember where he was.

“Oh. Mornin principessa,” he drawls, smiling lazily at you, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“What happened? And why on earth are you here of all people?” You ask, ignoring the pet name that you seemingly couldn’t shake as a yawn escapes you.

“That’s really no way to treat your knight in shining armor.” Theo tsks, stretching his arms out and leaning back in his chair. “I’m the one who caught you after Matt knocked you off your broom after all. Bludger to the head is no joke.”

You grimace. No wonder your head was throbbing.

“What a fucking git,” you grumble, falling back onto the bed.

Theo shrugs, not seeming to disagree.

Stupid Mattheo and his stupid bloody aim. Utter shit. And of course it had to be bloody Theodore of all people who saved you. Though you weren’t entirely sure you minded, closing your eyes briefly, an image of Theo in his quidditch uniform flashing through your mind.

“You never answered the second question.” You say after a moment of silence.

Theo looks at you, his head cocked to the side.

“Why are you here?”

“You’re hurt,” he says simply, as if it made all the sense in the world.

Your frown doesn’t quite reach the tips of your mouth as you look over at the brunette boy staring back at you.

No matter how many times you told yourself that you utterly detested the boy, you were never quite able to say it with your full chest. And for Rowena’s sake, it was not fair for someone to look this good at this time of night, in sweaty quidditch robes.

“You don’t like me.” You say quietly, not quite sure how true that statement truly was as the boy’s eyes had yet to stray away from you.

“Oh I can’t stand you.” Theodore replies, suddenly much closer than you remember.

“You’re the absolute worst person on earth,” you say, feeling yourself magnetize towards the boy beside you.

“I despise you with every bone in my being,” he responds before slowly, tentatively closing the gap.

His lips are fire against yours, not burning, but consuming. You feel yourself getting lost in the sensation of his lips moving hungrily against yours as his arm snakes around your waist, pulling you in closer. You would definitely be blaming this lapse in judgement on the fact that you’d taken a bludger to the head earlier. Or maybe not, you think hazily as a soft moan escapes your lips.

“Easy there principessa,” Theo murmurs, pulling away and pressing a kiss to your temple. “Let’s not hurt that pretty little head of yours.”

With a silent nod, you lean back, mind still reeling a bit given the night’s events.

Hesitantly, as if not wanting to spook you, Theo edges his way onto the bed beside you. Realizing his intent, you scoot over a bit, allowing yourself to be tucked carefully into his arms.

“If it makes you feel any better about being knocked out, Ravenclaw did end up winning. And your team visited after the match was over.” Theo says as you rest your head on his chest.

You smile at that.

“Good. Slytherin is shit.” You reply.

“You take that back.”

“Make me.”

Theo’s lips find yours once more, and you feel him grin against your lips.

“I’m still mad about those flowers you sent by the way,” you say once he pulls away.

A smirk overtakes Theo’s face as he looks down at you.

“I’m sorry principessa.”

“No you aren’t,” you scoff, rolling your eyes.

“No I’m not. That was one of my better bits I’d say.”

“It was pretty good.”

Another yawn escapes your lips, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by the boy holding you in his arms.

“Sleep now, principessa,” he says, fingers stroking gently through your hair.

You didn’t have to be told twice.

Not a single person was surprised when the Slytherin and Ravenclaw quidditch teams walked into the infirmary the next morning to find the two of you wrapped in each other’s embrace.

“Bloody took them long enough,” Mattheo says, finally breaking the silence.

Cho can’t help but nod in agreement.

The rivals to lovers quidditch fic that no one asked for, but I wrote anyways 🤗

[oh-puffle-cakes19]

Brats Making Noise

- Fluff; Mattheo Riddle x Reader x Theodore Nott

- Summary; The other boys in the common room get too noisy for Matteo liking as you and Theo are sleeping.

Word count - 1k

“Will you lot, be quiet!” Letting out a grunt, Mattheo turns around making you loosen your arms around him, “Sorry, my love,” he kisses your forehead, as he can’t exactly reach Theo, he opts for stroking his forehead softly. In return, Teddy gave him a small sigh of approval.

“Never knew Riddle would be whipped enough to decrease the noises!” Enzo smirks, playfully as he pulls out another card from his deck.

“A month ago he would be playing with us and shouting louder,” Blaise laughs, putting down his card.

“The cocky bastard is all loved up, can’t even see clearly with the cloud of mist,” Draco snickered.

“(House Animal) and snake has theo into the mix, he could have at least played uno with us,” Blaise sighs, leaning back.

“What happened to him anyway?” Lorenzo asks the stupid question.

“Turn around and see for yourself, how many times? You are so oblivious,” Draco shook his head, pulling out another card to place.

Lorzeno turns around to see you three on the sofa, “Ohhh, I see what you mean Bliase,”

“I can still hear you,” Mattheo opened one eye to look at his friends, “Theo couldn’t barely sit up straight let alone play a bloody card game!”

“Protective much, it’s a fucking card game,” Enzo grins as he shows his cards to Matt.

Mattheo rolls his eyes, having no time to argue with the barbaric brat. He’s like a fish out of water, most of the time, does not take a hint.

For a while during their card game, it did get quite.. too quiet! However, Mattheo already had his eyes closed, snuggled up with you and Theo, not caring about anything other than you both.

By now, You and Theo have both changed positions snuggling into Matt’s neck as he is in the middle. His protective arms graze with light touches like feathers to comfort you and Teddy.

“Oh, the fuck sake will you stop trying to cheat!” Draco shouts loudly, reaching across the small table and yanking Lorenzo’s jumper over his head.

“Why, did you do that forrrr?” Enzo whines, with a scowl appearing with messed up hair as he pulls his jumper back down.

“If you can’t see, you can’t cheat!” Mattheo snapped his eyes open to the sudden abrupt noise, “Now will you shut the fuck up because my princess and teddy are trying to sleep,”

Theo makes a grunting sound as he turns his body to get comfortable against Matt. He didn’t want to move the two of you since you both had little to no sleep for the past week due to you both being sick.

You whine, “Matty, too noisy,”

“Shh, princess, I know, we going to go to bed now,” Mattheo was just about to get up until Draco spoke up.

“Oh, so sorry your highness,” Draco snorts, “Didn’t realise you stole Theo by your charming Witt too!” Shuffling his non-existent deck as he places his second to last card in front of Enzo, “Uno,” he says, smirking.

“That's it!” Lorenzo makes all the cards fly around the room with his wand. The small table crashing against the wall.

Blaise just holds his head in his hand, “Your such a sore loser man,”

Mattheo seeing all the chaos unfold, deciding to not go until things have calm down in fear of something to be thrown at him while holding you.

“You did this last time and the time before that, why can’t you just play normally,” Draco huffs, “Has Daphne not giving you her attention,” his face soon turning into a teasing grin.

Lorenzo’s face becomes inflamed with range but nowhere near Mattheo’s face.

“You can not play quite nor fairly, if I hear one more pipe out of you two, I will feed you to Potter on a platter stuffed with an apple,” Matt snarled sharply.

“Sh, Sh, my sweethearts, go to sleep,” Mattheo whispered, gently stroking both yours and Theo’s forehead. Matt has no clue how you both have not fully woken up yet with all the chaos. Now it makes it easier for him to carry you both to bed as he is in the between you.

Both of his friends quit their snarky words towards each other, and just nod, giving the fact that he has been the moody/grumpy one in their group.

However, ever since Mattheo has been officially dating you and Theo, he has been a lot more pleasant to be around.

“We are going to bed now, so you have all the chaos you want,” Mattheo rolls his eyes, carefully standing up and lifting you into his arms.

“Yh, night; sweet dreams,” Lorenzo teases, Draco smirking as he knows what he means.

Mattheo has you into his arms leading you to his and Theo’s dorm, lying you on the bed gently.

“Where’s our teddy,” You slightly open your eyes, muttering into your sleep as Matt lays you down.

“Don’t worry, I’m going to pick up Teddy, princess,” Matt whispers, kissing your forehead as he tucks you in, “I’ll be back,”

You nod, snuggling under the covers, satisfied.

Mattheo hurries to the common room seeing that Theo is indeed still asleep. Just as Matt picked up Theo without any effort at all.

Lorenzo stretches his back and yawns, “Sweet dreams, lover boy!” With a wave of his hand. Draco and Blaise snickering at Enzo’s comment. Matt glares at them, not bothering to comment as his priority is his girlfriend and boyfriend.

“Matty,” Theo snuggles into his chest. Matt lays Theo down next to you, instantly you both clung on to each other like Velcro.

“Teddy,”

“Princess,”

“Sweet dreams, my sweet boy and girl,” Matt kisses both of your foreheads before sliding into the bed, Theo feeling a strong arm wrapped around him as he turns to have his arms around you.

“Goodnight, Teddy and Matty,” You barely heard Matt but you still could make out what he was saying.

“Mm, Goodnight, Cara Mias,” Theo mumbles, drifting to sleep with you both.

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Part 21: The Shadow of the Abattoir

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OC

Summary: Mistakes are made, and the consequences have begun to come home to roost.  

Word Count: 4,415

Notes: Don't ask me why I continue to chose to write things that require a good deal of action when it's one of my weakest points as an author. But I did try to do a few things stylistically to make it hopefully a little less painful to read. Warnings for depictions of violence, blood, decapitation, and pregnancy.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 17: Heads Will Roll

Luca was still inside the truck when, to his horror, the roar of machine gunfire began to assault them from above. One of his boys who had already stepped out into the square went down, blood spraying from the holes that the weapon ripped through his torso.  

He had just enough time to burst from the doors of the van and dart behind it, using the body of the truck for cover from the barrage of bullets raining down on them. He only had the briefest of moments to catch sight of Shelby up on the terrace above them, hunched behind a massive machine gun aimed down at where they were all gathered in the square. 

For a moment, his head spun, heart hammering in his ears, trying to process just what the actual fuck had happened. 

One second, they were following Shelby’s car into a secluded little square surrounded by apartment buildings, the next, they were being assaulted with seemingly unending gunfire.

His teeth gritted. It had been Polly Gray. That bitch had baited him. Shelby had probably been in on the whole fucking thing from the beginning. 

There were no easy exits, and very limited cover, especially with Shelby already up above them with a bird’s eye view of the square. They were like rats in a fucking barrel.

His finger flexed preparedly against the trigger of his gun, waiting for the cease in the gunfire. Shelby would have to reload sooner or later. And Luca was fairly certain that it was just him. The little red-haired whore hadn’t been with him when he left the hospital, and if he had any other men with him–especially that mad dog of a brother–they would already know.

There was a brief break in the gunfire, and Luca took his chance, whipping around from his cover behind the truck, firing wildly in the air towards the terrace. Shelby ducked down behind the rail and out of sight, but Luca didn’t stop firing. Behind him, his men joined him in unleashing a storm of bullets in Shelby’s direction. Luca just barely could make out his figure dart from the crate he was huddled behind and into the open door of the flat nearby. 

A seize of rage squeezed at Luca’s throat. The fucking bastard was getting away. He roared orders to his men, sending them in different directions to come at the apartment from the multitude of entrances available to them. Matteo and a few others remained behind him as he ducked into a doorway that led to a staircase. 

His focus was so intensely turned above, fingers flexing against the trigger of his gun while he climbed the steps, ready to fire in case Shelby suddenly appeared above them, that neither he, nor any of the others, noticed that while they had entered the building with five of them, only four had made it to ascending the stairs.

∗ ∗ ∗

Lucy slowly lowered the heavy body of the Italian to the floor, her left hand clamped tightly over his mouth and nose, the other supporting his shoulder so she didn’t drop him.

They had not even noticed, as she jumped stealthily out of the shadows she’d been crouched in, snatching the Italian lingering at the back of the group after the others began to climb the stairs. She’d cut his throat at the same second she covered his mouth, keeping his sounds contained in the leather of her gloves as he died. It did not take long; her hunting knife cut into him like butter, purposefully angling his body back slightly so that the blood poured out onto his chest, rather than splattering all over the ground. 

She kept her movements smooth and silent, slinking up the stairs like a cat. Luca and two of his soldiers were climbing the stairs quickly, their focus up above, where Tommy had been, and not down below. The fourth member of their party had fallen behind a little, taking too long to try to peer out a dirty window. Quick as a viper, Lucy darted forward, and repeated the movements she had just inflicted upon the first Italian, hand clamping over his mouth and carving into his throat with her knife. 

It was risky, taking him like that out in the open on the stairwell. But they were still in the shadows, Luca and his men so far up ahead and focused on getting Tommy that they weren’t even considering what might be creeping up on them from behind. Still, after setting the body of her second victim down on the stone steps, Lucy pressed her back against the most shaded wall, waiting until she heard the men step out onto the terrace of the level that Tommy had been shooting at them from. Not that Tommy would be there anymore. 

She knew where he was headed next, just like she knew a shortcut through this very stairwell that would lead her right to him. 

Halfway up the stairs, she heard an exchange of gunfire from somewhere nearby, her shoulders instinctually drawing in until she realized that it wasn’t for her. It lasted only for a few moments, and then there was silence once more. She continued to race up the stairs, swallowing the bead of fear in her throat. 

Please be okay.

She had to figure that he was, otherwise she’d have been hearing the shouts and jeers of victory from the Italians right about now. Angling her head up, she adjusted her grip on the knife, and continued her ascent. 

∗ ∗ ∗

Tommy shouldered his way past the sheets hanging from the clotheslines. They fluttered and twitched in the breeze, surprisingly heavy as he pushed through them.

He flinched at the blast of gunfire that sharply followed him, pushing his legs to run faster, barely keeping ahead of the stream of bullets that clinked audibly where they smashed into the railing that lined the roof. The Italian man who had shot at him in the stairwell was still following him. 

Tommy raced to the door that led off the roof, then hesitated. The Italian had stopped firing, fidgeting to reload his gun. Fast and silent, Tommy ducked and weaved through the white and blue sheets, taking care to avoid stirring them and giving away his approach. 

He came to a stop when he could see the silhouette of the man through the large, white swath of cloth hanging between them. He fired at it, teeth gritting savagely, bullet casings falling to the ground with a tinkle of metal. The white sheet stained red.     

There was a shout to his right, and he mentally cursed at the realization that the Italian had brought a friend with him, the man’s rifle already half raised to point at Tommy’s chest. 

His movements were impeded by a sudden, violent jerk, eyes going wide as saucers, a hand flying to his throat as a knife embedded itself in the space just below his ear. He went down like a bag of rocks. 

“You alright?” Lucy asked, jogging out from behind the fluttering sheets, going to the Italian where he had crumpled and unceremoniously yanking her knife from his neck.

“Yeah. Are you?” he reached out a hand to her, helping her to straighten, looking her over for injuries.

“Yeah.”

“Right. Come on,” he beckoned. She followed right behind him as he pushed his way back through the swaths of drying sheets, leading the way inside. They burst through doors, into apartments containing huddled family members, staring back at them with terrified eyes. Tommy shouted orders for everyone to stay down and inside. Not just in the hopes that they would listen to him and remain out of the crossfire, but also to draw Luca in and after him with the sound of his bellowing voice. 

“Do they know you’re with me yet?” he asked Lucy as they rushed down a hallway. 

“I don’t think so. I’ve gotten three so far,” she stopped as they came to a staircase. “You go ahead. I’ll stay here and hunt them through the halls. I think that I might be able to get one or two more.”

Tommy hesitated, the thought of just leaving there making his stomach churn. “I don’t…”

“They’re so focused on you, it’ll be a wonder if they see me at all.” She was reaching up to tuck her hair more securely under her cap to hide the distinctive shock of red. “Most likely they’ll just think I’m a tenant of the building. A tiny little woman in an apartment building full of women and children? They won’t give me a second glance.”

“Unless they recognize you.”

She gave him a look, touching his cheek. “I’ll be careful.”

He glanced nervously at the hallway behind her. There was no time to argue. And he trusted that she knew what she was doing. He stooped low to kiss her.

“Be safe.”

“You too.” She took a step back from him, twirling her hunting knife. “Go.”

He cast her one last look, and took off climbing the stairs. 

∗ ∗ ∗

“Luca,” Matteo hissed from over his shoulder. “Luca,” he repeated, when he didn’t answer right away. 

“What?” Luca growled back, head snapping around the glare at him like an angered dog. 

“Where are Vincenzo and Sal?”

Luca looked back down the hall where his men were lined up behind him. Vincenzo, Sal, and Frankie had met up with them inside the apartment, having already swept the lower levels. Good thing, too, considering that Marco and Dante weren’t with them. Strange; he’d thought that they had followed him inside, but they must have stayed out on the square.  

But now all he could see were Frankie and Rocco behind him and Matteo. 

“Did you tell them to break off?” Luca asked, annoyance sharpening his tone to that of a needle, eyes narrowing in slits at Matteo.

“No! I didn’t say a thing to them.”

His face twitched in frustration, fighting back the urge to shout. “Useless motherfuckers…” they would be in for a sharp reprimand when this was all over. Breaking plans and formation without orders…

“Do you think Shelby might’ve gotten them?”

Luca gave him an unimpressed look. “How?” Unless Shelby had suddenly changed his tactics from shooting to a silent method of killing, or, even more unlikely, managed to somehow sneak around and behind them, there was no way he could have picked off Marco, Dante, Vincenzo, or Sal. 

No, it was just his men thinking that they knew better than him. Fucking Matteo, encouraging everyone to read that book about taking initiative a few months ago. What was so wrong with just being a good fucking soldier and listening to your superior officer?

He couldn’t focus on that now. All that mattered was getting Shelby. He was so close. So close to getting the vengeance and justice he had dreamed of for over a year. He would bring Shelby’s head to his mother, he decided. As a gift. She could mount it on her wall. Or place it on a stake outside her house for the crows to feed upon. 

He shook his head sharply, and, like a panther stalking its prey through the jungle, began to lead the way down the hall.  

∗ ∗ ∗

Frankie peered into the apartments, eyes sweeping over the mother laying facedown on the floor, both arms around her two children, holding them tight against her. She peaked up at him through a curtain of dark hair, gaze massive and terrified.

The creaking of floorboards behind him made him jump, spinning around, gun raised and at the ready. There was no one there, but he swore that he saw a flash of movement through the crack of the door behind him. Rifle still raised, he inched towards it, chancing one quick glance back at where Luca, Matteo, and Rocco were advancing in front of him, heading towards a staircase at the end of the hall, checking inside each apartment as they went.

He pushed the door to the flat open with his fingertips, immediately replacing the hand on his rifle, steadying his aim, preparing to fire upon Shelby the first moment he saw him. 

Instead, he was met with a tiny woman crouched down on the floor, her knees pulled up to her chest, head bent to bury her face in them. She had on a large dark coat, and he wondered if she had just gotten in when the shooting began.

A tad disappointed, but also distinctly relieved, at the lack of the man they were seeking, Frankie huffed, lowering his weapon and turning away. Luca had said that they were not to harm any civilians. 

He failed to see the blood from Vincenzo and Sal that was staining the woman’s hands, her face so properly hidden from him that he could not make out the splatter of red across one of her pale cheeks, the dark folds of her coat covering the crimson-slathered blade of a hunting knife laying by her feet.

Nor did he have time to process the greatness of the mistake he had made, as the second that he turned his back on the woman, she sprang up with near-paranormal, inhuman speed and silence, seized him from behind, and began to saw into his throat with her knife.

∗ ∗ ∗

Her hands were wet and sticky, the mixture of the Italian’s blood coating them almost entirely. It was mostly from the last two. The last one in particular, had made a considerable mess. 

Though to be fair, there was a good reason for that. 

She could feel blood sticking to her face and wetting her waistcoat and shirt. 

At least no one would ever be able to say that she was afraid to get her hands dirty. The coppery smell seemed to envelope her, familiar and metallic.

She flexed her fingers around the prize she had collected from the last one she’d killed. A little gift for Luca, should they manage to cross paths during this whole bloody affair.

He hadn’t seemed all that concerned that so many of his men had vanished. Too hyper-fixated on Tommy to think of anything else, she assumed. He would be regretting that soon enough.  

She heard a few horrified gasps from some of the tenants who saw what she had clenched in her hand as she passed by their doors, but for the most part, everyone remained silent, waiting with baited breath for the gangsters to leave.

Lucy paid them no mind as she moved to the stairs, taking them down towards the exit that led out onto the street. If Tommy had gone upstairs and then went out and down the fire escape, they should meet in approximately the same place. 

The sudden cacophony of shooting suddenly thundered from outside, the sound making her wince, fingers tightening around her knife, footsteps hastening down the stairs.  

∗ ∗ ∗

“Come on, me and you, Tommy,” Luca jeered, standing out in the middle of the street with his arms spread wide. “Come on.” His machine gun was empty, tossed haphazardly to the ground. He’d ordered Matteo to stand down. He waited with baited breath, watching hungrily as Shelby slowly emerged from his cover, stepping out, gun clutched in his right hand, footsteps loud as thunder as they slowly drew nearer. Luca felt the semblance of a smile emblazon itself upon his face as he stared down his enemy. This was it. 

This was what he had been waiting all this time for. 

He began to recite the prayer in his head, the one that he had always known would be the one he’d say just before putting a bullet in the face of the man who had stolen his father and brother from him. From his coat, he drew his gun. Shelby’s blue eyes stared at him intensely. He looked like a big cat or a wolf, prepared to pounce at any moment.

But Luca had shot wolves before. On a hunting trip with his father in the mountains in Italy.

He cocked the gun, eyes narrowing slightly, ready to move…

“Hey, Luca!” A voice suddenly shouted from his right. A voice that he recognized. And suddenly he could hear his mother whispering in his ear. 

“Wherever Thomas Shelby goes, the Red Demon is never far behind.”

She was walking towards him with purposeful, measured steps, black coat swirling around her legs, red curls dancing around her chin with every movement. She wore the cap of the Peaky Blinders atop her head, and when she turned her head just the right way, he could see the faint glint of the razors sewn into the brim. Blood was splattered across one of her cheeks, and there was something vicious and mad blazing in her green gaze. When she saw him looking at her, her face stretched into a wide grin. She held something dripping and grotesque up in her hand. 

“Is this yours?” she shouted, and threw it at him.

He stared, in open-mouthed horror, as Frankie’s head bounced and rolled across the pavement, settling at his feet face-up. Frankie’s eyes were open wide, staring up at him with his mouth slackened into a horrified O. As if begging for Luca to save him. 

He looked up, and the demon was standing there, grin widening, mad eyes electric with mirth.

A realization, violent and terrible, came crashing down upon him. 

She had been there the whole time, and they had not seen her. 

Where were the rest of his men? Probably splayed out in that apartment building, having suffered the same fate as poor Frankie. 

As poor Alessio, too. 

He had thought that it was those savages Shelby had hired from the mountains who had killed his cousin, but this suggested something else.

It had been her. Lucy Winters. The Red Demon. Thomas Shelby’s bitch, who had cleaved his cousin’s head from his shoulders.

His mother had been right. He had not listened to her warnings, but she had been right.

Everything, from Winters’s announcement of her presence to Luca’s earth shattering realization, happened within the span of about ten seconds. Behind him, Shelby had his arm raised, gun cocked and ready to fire at the back of his head. 

And then the police arrived. 

They began firing upon them almost immediately, rushing from their vans to swarm them Luca ducked. Shelby tried to fire at him a few times, but missed, and Luca cringed away against the onslaught of gunfire from the gangster and the police, turning heel and racing down the street with Matteo in tow. 

The police gave chase, but were easy to lose in the winding alleyways. The moment they were sure they’d lost them, he and Matteo leaned against the cool brick walls, panting. Luca bent over to clutch at his knees, staring at nothing as Matteo began to ramble off frantic questions that he did not really hear into his ear. 

Before arriving in Birmingham, Luca had made a list of potential problems and caveats that would need to be dealt with so that they could not impede his mission in enacting his vengeance on Tommy Shelby and his entire family.

The Jewish gang in London had been on the list. As had the Romani people with such close ties to Shelby that they were practically blood. And the people of Small Heath, who for some inconceivable reason, seemed to have developed some sort of fondness for Shelby and his gang. 

And now, Lucy Winters was at the top of that fucking list. 

∗ ∗ ∗

It took both her and Moss to pry away the three officers who had swarmed onto Tommy. Moss was furious, shouting at both Tommy and his men in equal measure. 

“There are three bodies that need cleaning up,” Tommy told him, still a little out of breath, reaching into his pocket and holding out a wad of bills.

“Nine,” Lucy corrected. They both looked at her with wide eyes. She shrugged. “I got six.”

Moss shook his head, cursing under his breath.

“Come on,” Tommy mumbled, indicating for her to follow him as Moss turned to bark more orders to the officers under his command. Why the fuck did they have to show up then? They’d had Luca. 

Neither of them said anything for most of the walk back to the Shelby’s house, Lucy digging around in her pocket for a handkerchief that she wiped her face and hands on. Tommy was sullen the whole walk, head down and lips set in a deep frown. 

“It’s not all bad,” Lucy tried to raise his spirits. “We didn’t get Luca, but we got a whole lot of his men. Enough to make a dent in his forces.”

He just grunted. She sighed, patting his arm.

Polly was waiting for them inside, a clove cigarette clutched between her fingers, lines of worry etched onto her face. There were several other finished black cigarettes already stubbed out in the ashtray. Clearly she had been smoking and pacing anxiously for a while. 

“You alright?” she asked them, taking a cautious step forward once they were inside. Tommy nodded, silently going to put his rifle away. Polly watched him go, then turned back to Lucy, eyes bugging a little out of her head at the sight of her bloodied shirt and waistcoat. “My God–”

“It’s not mine,” Lucy assured, waving her away. Tommy came back, collapsing in a chair, pulling a cigarette from his case. Lucy moved around to stand behind him, smoothing her fingers along his hair. “I need to go change. I’ll be right back.”

He nodded. Polly frowned. Lucy pecked the top of his head, squeezing his shoulder and darting upstairs to their room, stripping out of her bloodied clothes and into some fresh, clean ones, taking a detour to the washroom to make sure she’d gotten all of the blood off of her face and hands. 

By the time she came downstairs, she could hear the rumble of engines as the rest of the family pulled up outside. Charlie was playing in the sitting room, while they all gathered in the kitchen. 

She sat down in the chair in front of where Tommy stood, twitching with her rings and smoking, not saying much at all as he debriefed with the other family members. The adrenaline was finally starting to leave her system, leaving her to feel jittery. 

“Look, I didn’t get Luca, but I got three. All right? Lucy got six. That’s it. That’s what happened,” Tommy explained.

Johnny Dogs whistled. “Six, eh, Winters? You’re giving all of us a run for our money.”

She smiled slightly, still fiddling with her hands, shrugging bashfully. “I got lucky.”

There were footsteps behind them, as Charlie bounded into the doorway. Tommy scooped him up, hoisting him to rest on his hip. Soon, everyone was rising from their seats, Arthur insisting that she and Tommy come with them for a drink. She raised from her chair, shaking out her hands, giving little Charlie a soft smile and a gentle ruffle to his blonde hair. 

“You owe me lunch,” she mumbled into Tommy’s ear as they made for the door. He looked at her with a raised brow, head cocking while his lips quirked as he remembered their agreement from before the ambush. 

“Mm. I suppose I do, don’t I?”

She giggled, and placed a kiss to his cheek. 

∗ ∗ ∗

Tommy watched Lucy shield a yawn with her hand, squinting at the print on the paper she was reading. Dark circles had appeared under her eyes since they’d returned to the office, and he could recognize the telltale unsteadiness that so often settled in after a situation like the one they’d found themselves in earlier that day.

Shifting in his chair, he glanced over at the pictures on his desk, eyes settling on the ones of Grace. One was just of her by herself, a professional photo taken during her days working as an operative, and the other from not long before her death, baby Charlie settled in her lap. 

Tommy looked away, gaze focused up on the ceiling miserably. God; what she would have thought of them…

He stood suddenly, well aware that if he continued to just sit there and stew in his own thoughts, he would drown in them. 

“Why don’t you go ahead and head home?” he suggested, hand landing on Lucy’s shoulder. She looked up at him quizzically. 

“Are you sure?”

“Mhm. I won’t be long. I promise.”

She considered, then nodded. “Okay.” She must have been even more tired than he thought. He took the papers from her, tossing them over onto the desk while she went and got her coat. He followed her to the door, Lucy turning and giving him a quick kiss.

“I’ll see you soon.”

He nodded. “Less than an hour.” Really, all he needed to do was put everything away and lock up for the evening. She gave his arms a strong squeeze, and ducked out the door, mumbling a soft goodbye to Lizzie who was still at her desk.

Tommy busied himself tucking things away and tidying his desk, before going to the shelf of liquor that he kept, pulling out a cigarette and fumbling with a glass. He’d have one last drink, lock everything up, and go home to Lucy and Charlie. It would feel good to just lay in bed with Lucy on his chest, listening to her breathing while she slept, his fingers carding delicately through her soft red hair. 

The door opened, and Lizzie stepped in. He glanced back at her, then again to the decanters of alcohol. 

“Want a drink, Lizzie? I’ve had a hard day.”

He heard the door click shut behind her when she leaned her back against it. While he had been keeping his distance since the whole incident between her and May, he still tried to be kind and respectful towards her. She was part of the family, after all.

“I don’t drink whiskey or gin anymore, Tom,” Lizzie said after a long pause.

“Why not?” he asked, pouring a glass for himself.

And then she dropped seven little words that carried with them the promise of yanking his entire world completely off its axis:

“Because they say it harms the baby.”

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[thoughtsonhurtandcomfort]

Shun the Light - Ch 13 - The Talk

Slow Burn | Refuge | Decision | Mend | Hunger | Thin Mints | The Garden | Philip | Moments | Full Moon pt 1 | Full Moon pt 2 | Tend | Absolution |

Author's Notes: Just some long overdue conversation~

Content Warnings: werewolf whumpee, vampire caretaker, sprained ankle, recovery, emotional whump

----

One step at a time.

Matteo clings to the railing with both hands. He lowers his good leg first, then follows with his sprained one. His body protests each and every movement, but he persists, intent on reaching the living room. A record is playing low and Dante will be there, reading or drawing or some other hobby.

"Almost there...Almost there..."

"What do you think you're doing?"

He looks up to find Dante standing in the foyer with his hands on his hips. Matteo sighs and sits down on one of the steps.

"I never thought I'd say this, but I can't spend another minute in that bed. I needed a change of scenery."

And some company would be nice.

"You could have called for help. Did you at least take your medicine first?"

"What are you, my mother? Yes, I took it."

Dante gives in and goes to help him up. They make it to the living room without incident, where Dante eases Matteo into a recliner.

"Thank you," Matteo says quietly. He never wants to take the care he's been given for granted.

Once Dante has him settled he goes to the record player and turns the album over. He resets the needle and gentle instrumental music begins to play.

"All of the records are Mr. Townsend's," he says, motioning to a full shelf. "I never got to get my music...or any of my things."

Matteo relaxes into the chair and watches Dante return his spot on the couch and pick up a shirt he is in the process of mending.

"I get that. I didn't take much with me when I left home. And what I did bring I lost during a transformation."

"So...you left home because this happened to you."

"Yeah," Matteo admits quietly. It still hurts to think about. "On my first full moon the wolf wrecked my apartment. I got lucky that the tenant on the lower floor was away that week or god knows what might have happened. After that, I left the landlord most of my money for the damages, sent a letter telling my family I was traveling, and got out. Never looked back."

Dante hardly reacts, but there is a deep sadness growing in his eyes like gathering storm clouds.

"And the one who turned you," he asks carefully, "was it the boyfriend you told me about?"

"Yeah, the bastard. He must have known something would happen - he asked to stay over on the full moon. I never found out why, or why me. Maybe he wanted to kill me, maybe he wanted a...a mate or something." He makes a face at the thought.

Dante silently takes it all in while still working the needle in and out of fabric in a steady motion that's as relaxing to Matteo as the music.

"When it happens," Dante asks after a while, "you don't have any control?"

He sighs. "No. It's like I go to sleep and the wolf takes over. I don't remember a thing the next day - I just wake up with the consequences of whatever it did."

"Like jumping out of a third story window?"

"...no. That was all me."

Dante abruptly stops sewing and turns to stare at him.

"You were right there," Matteo tries to explain. "Another minute and it might have attacked you. I had to do something."

Dante slowly puts the shirt aside and gives Matteo his full attention. "You were protecting me?"

"Well, yeah. You let me stay here. Gave me food. You've been really good to me. I couldn't just let it rip your throat out."

"So you..." Dante almost laughs. "Wow. That was..."

"Stupid?"

"Brave."

Oh.

Matteo blames his post-moon hangover for the stinging in his eyes.

The two fall into a thick but comfortable silence, both reflecting on the things they have said and heard. Dante resumes his sewing and Matteo rests.

By the time Dante speaks again, the final song on the record is fading.

"The house has a fallout shelter. Maybe you can use it next time."

Matteo's heart skips a beat.

"Next time?"

"If you want to stay that long, of course. You can do whatever you want."

The offer is only for him to stay another month, but it's so much more than Matteo dared to hope for.

It takes him a moment to find his voice.

"Okay. Yeah. Yeah, it's worth a shot, right?"

Dante doesn't reply, doesn't look over. If Matteo wasn't watching him so intently he might miss the hint of a smile. But before it can fully take shape, Dante is up and crossing the room to change the record, and the moment is gone.

[knowledge-paradox]

Lore ramble about the Tusco family

this is mainly about Giovanni Tusco, Matteo and Marinella's father.

We go back to the year 1727, when the firstborn child of the Tusco’s was born, his name is Giovanni Pietro Tusco, second name belonging to his father.

Giova grows as a golden child, oldest and wonderful kid of the family, fast studier and even quicker learner, always at his father's request.

He grows up surrounded by two siblings, his lovely sister Lucia —who marries young arranged with a Spanish banker— and his younger brother Andrea, who was close to his brother like no one was.

The family was a perfect picture, the oldest into the family following a good career in law, the lady married to a rich man and the youngest boy serving the army in London, a core place for the family's history.

or at least it looked like a perfect picture.

1752. Two children are in the family picture already, and Giova meets a wonderful lady back in Italy.

Giova's father agrees to marriage, but the lady is not keen on it, she's not ready she would say.

They wait a year, meanwhile Andrea gets hanged for treason.

Giovanni goes into a mourning state, this time being the one who refuses marriage. Then he finds out that his fiance is pregnant. She fights to keep the child, the two losing Giova's father's support, claiming the kid as a bastard.

The kid is born in 1754 and they name him Matteo.

Peace time ensures, Giova finally is over his grieving and the two raise their dear firstborn child, but doesn't last long as Matteo's mother gets sick.

It's 1757 when Giova's partner dies of influenza and the man is alone once again.

In the same year he meets a German lady from New York, and even though he doesn't feel like it would make his mental state any better he asks his father's permission to marry her. The father denies it. He won't let his son marry a woman of such low standards and go with her overseas, it was out of the question.

Too bad for his father, Giova wouldn't accept no as an answer anymore.

Two weeks later at a family meeting, Giova's father dies of poisoning. Lucia declares it might have been an allergic reaction, she knows it's a lie.

Giova does not come to his father's funeral, he instead prepares everything and sails overseas to america with his wife.

Then in 1758 Marinella is born, but Giova doesn't really care, he's too busy taking care of his son, an exact copy of himself who he needs to make sure he'll grow up as a better version than him.

When his mother finds out that Giova has gotten a second child she decides to pay a visit, she was declared missing later.

The two kids grow up not knowing anything about their grandparents nor their father's background until his death. Then the war starts, and Matteo fights for what his father considered the enemy.

After the war, blood still in his hands, Matteo decided to write to his aunt, and although she never replied back before, when Matteo asks about his father a reply is quick to arrive two weeks later.

Lucia Grazia Tusco, Sister of Giovanni Tusco and mother of a now dead son, declares her brother was a monster.

And Matteo realizes he didn't grow up too far from what his father was.

[wailingbones]

it wasn't odd , by now , to find dakota at the moretti home even when no one was there maybe more so now that things didn't seem so casual between himself and gabriel at the moment . what was odd was the idea of someone knocking on the door . anyone that was close to the morettis would have just walked in and if it was kieran or matteo , they wouldn't have bothered knocking . dakota half thought about ignoring it before blowing out a sigh as he pushed himself up to get the door , brows furrowing at the person across from him . @ladyviscera

" mister meeks , " dakota spoke . " didn't realize you and gabriel were friends . " he knew they weren't . gabe may have been cordial and charming to most people but friends wasn't the case here .

" i'm not here for gabriel , " he spoke . " wanted to speak to you . saw your car when i was driving by . " dakota noticed how tired the man appeared . the red in his eyes . the bags . god , randy being missing was really taking a toll on the sorry bastard .

he had half the mind to refuse or to step outside but decided against it as he stepped out of the way for the man to come inside before moving toward the kitchen . " what about ? " he asked before pausing . " sorry about randy , by the way . hopefully he comes home . "

the man's footsteps were slow as he followed behind dakota . " what i wanted to talk to you about , actually . " he paused in speaking , watching as dakota turned to face him . he almost wanted to laugh when he opened his mouth . he was sure dakota was going to try and deny it . " you were with him that night . "

" no , " dakota spoke with a shake of his head as he crossed his arms over his head . " saw him very briefly before i left . "

dakota's eyes narrowed when mister meeks seemed to offer a laugh in return but there was no real humor to his voice as he took his phone out of his pocket . he watched in mild confusion as the older man clicked a few buttons before he heard it . the struggle . randy begging for his life . dakota hadn't thought twice about seeing randy's phone on the ground before putting it back on his body before sinking him in the lake . he had just assumed it dropped out of his pocket . he never once thought that a call could have gone through .

" didn't realize i missed his call until today , " mister meeks spoke . " you were with him . " he stepped forward forcing dakota to step back , cornered against the kitchen counter . " where is he ? "

for a moment , maybe dakota looked concerned , or sorrowful , but the emotion was quick to wipe away from his face . " in the bottom of a river . probably isn't very recognizable . " he tilted his head . he knew the man thought he had his smoking gun with the voicemail and maybe randy said his name but he could have said something mistakable for dakota's name . " before you ask , no . i don't feel sorry . your piece of shit son deserved every fucking minute -- "

the man had lunged , dropping his phone in the process . gripping dakota's shirt and slamming him back against the counter before bringing him to the floor , knocking over kitchen utensils in the process . dakota scrambled , or tried to , but the man's grip on his shirt was tight , forcing his back off the floor before slamming him down almost hard enough to knock the wind out of him .

" all randy wanted , " mister meeks hissed , " was friends . all he wanted was -- "

something more .

something he could take .

the man hit him .

" and you took him away , " mister meeks breathed . " you took him . " he forced dakota up again before slamming him back against the floor . dakota's ears rung , vision almost hazy as he attempted to get out from underneath the older man before strong hands wrapped around dakota's throat , squeezing tightly .

it was the first time , in a long time , that dakota felt real panic . real fear . he wasn't as calm and collected as before , fighting like hell , almost wildly to get the man off , hand reaching for something , anything that he could use .

[hee-blee-art]

matteo & tiernan's daughter, aine <3

[ID: a page of digital drawings and three detail crops featuring aine, a young girl with tan skin, freckles, and curly red hair, dressed in various dresses; and tiernan, a tall fat vampire with medium brown skin, dark locs to her shoulders, thick eyebrows, and pointed teeth, dressed in various collared shirts. aine is shown standing, leaning, and putting on her boots in different dresses, each covered in dirt.

the first crop shows tiernan braiding aine's hair as she asks, "is my hair gonna look like yours?" tiernan replies, "hmhm, not quite, a stór, now keep still just a tad longer, yeah?" aine then says, "well make it look as pretty as yours, ok?" and tiernan says "of course."

the second crop shows aine looking annoyed as she sits at a table with a label that says "(during a history lesson)", saying, "why should I follow some dumb old king's rules? he doesn't even know me. he can't tell me what to do."

the third crop continues with tiernan ruffling aine's hair and saying, "that's right, darlin', the monarchy's just a bunch of bastards." out of frame, tiernan's husband matteo shouts, "tiernan! language." and tiernan says, "I'm teachin' her about the royals!" matteo replies, "oh! nevermind." end ID]

[matteo-dambrosio]

“I’ve held it together but a night like this, is begging for me to fall apart.” - Unknown

December 12th, 2023

“Where have you been?! It’s been weeks, Matteo, with not a word from you!”

The elder, Italian woman was screaming the moment her son walked through the threshold of the home they shared together. There was a mixture of relief and anger in her eyes, her hands gripping onto the fabric of his coat while Matteo attempted to set his luggage on the ground.

Matteo remained silent, enveloping his mother into his arms and holding her close. Her screaming ended, burying her face into his chest as she cried. “I thought you had died when you didn’t call home,” she said in a shaky whisper.

A part of me did, he wanted to say but he remained silent, his hand rubbing his mother’s back to calm her.

“I’m sorry,” was all he could say.

As the days passed, his mother and father began to see the change in their son. Matteo hardly ate and remained locked in his own room, isolated and alone. He would only leave the house for work, returning late into the evening.

It was Friday night and Matteo lay in his bed. His phone propped against his chest, wordlessly scrolling through the few photos they had taken with their son. He had looked at them so many times, he had his son’s face memorized down to the smallest freckle.

Hastily wiping away the fallen tear, he sat up abruptly when he heard the handle move. “What?”

The hard knocking came immediately after. “Matteo, open the door. Your father and I would like to speak with you,” she said.

Matteo exhaled a slow, controlled breath and locked his phone, tossing it on the bed while he walked to the door. He unlocked the bedroom door, opening it and retreating to his bed. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t have to. His father spoke first.

“What has been going on? We can tell there’s just something you’re not telling us so what is it?” his father asked, staring at his son’s face though Matteo didn’t look at him.

Matteo’s jaw tightened, staring at the floor. He took a hand and raked his fingers through his hair. “I have a girlfriend…” he started to say but was immediately cut off by his mother.

“I knew it! Didn’t I tell you? It’s the reason he’s been so secretive,” said his mother to her spouse. “Well, where is she? Do we know her family? Please tell me it’s that girl from church.”

A hollow laugh escaped Matteo. He felt so empty, so broken. “She’s from Greece. Santorini, all her family lives here. It’s where I’ve been,” he explained, seeing his father’s fingers curl into a fist as he said this. “And we have a son.”

The final words Matteo spoke were enough to cause his mother to step forward. Her hand came across his face, the sound of the slap piercing the silence.

Matteo said nothing more, only feeling the skin on his cheek sting from the blow his mother had given him. The room was filled with screaming. Vile, cruel words were hurled at Matteo. Disgrace to the family. Dishonor. Bastard child.

Matteo rose to his feet at the mention of his son. “Don’t you ever speak ill of him again,” he threatened, his tone cold as he addressed his father. His eyes bore into his.

“Leave this house. You’re no longer a part of this family,” spat his father, his mother crying against her husband.

Matteo took a step back so he could collect the luggage he didn’t bother to unpack. “A good father would have never said those words to his son. I know this because I would have never said any of this to Alessandro, no matter what situation he’d find himself in. Never,” Matteo said, moving past his parents without a backwards glance. He held his head up as he left the house, leaving his parents in their despair.

He texted Ava once he arrived at the airport. “I’m on my way home. I’ll see you soon, amore,” was all he said before pocketing the phone and heading towards his gate.

[theedgeofsleep2024]

Katie: Yeah, I don’t like people. 

Matteo: Oh, well now that’s not fair Katie. Have you met all of them? 

Katie: I’ve met enough of them. People. What a bunch of bastards!

[veilxstars]

“If cats looked like frogs we'd realize what nasty, cruel little bastards they are. Style. That's what people remember.” ― Terry Pratchett

Felecien Baudelaire | art museum curator & human | moodboard

Advantages: He blends artistic talent and critical insight to his role as an art curator. His extensive knowledge of Italian Renaissance and 18th-century French antiques allows him to curate collections that resonate with both the local community and art enthusiasts. His background as a muralist and forger has sharpened his eye for detail, enabling him to navigate the art world with cunning and audacity.

Strengths:

Artistic Expertise: Extensive knowledge of art history, particularly in Italian Renaissance and 18th-century French antiques, allows him to curate exhibitions.

Critical Insight: His background in muralism and forgeries sharpens his eye for detail and enables him to critique and navigate the elitism in the art world.

Resilience and Adaptability: His rebellious nature and experiences shape a strong, passionate character capable of channeling his complex emotions into his work.

Weaknesses:

Emotional Turmoil: The memories of his friend Matteo’s tragedy leave him feeling empty and disconnected, impacting his ability to form relationships.

Fear of Vulnerability: While he craves validation, his pride and self-hatred prevent him from opening up to others.

Cynicism: His passionate disdain for societal norms can lead to an overly critical perspective.

[melis-writes]

The scene in part 1 where Vito is in hospital and Sonny, Michael & others then Sonny receives the fish… well what if he had his wife there or something perhaps this AU is that he married Victoria, not Michael

Ooh, now this is a hell of an AU!! 😳 Victoria’s right there by Sonny’s side, just as involved in all of this as a mafiosi herself. 👀

A Sicilian Message.

“I don’t know,” Tom shifts in his seat, shaking his head and speaking to you and Sonny admist the discussion with Clemenza and Tessio. “I don’t know. It’s too much bad blood.”

“Nothing can be done about it now,” Clemenza frowns. “With Tattaglia and Barzini…”

Michael lets out a quiet sigh—sitting across from the others with his hand at this rate seemingly glued to the telephone, ringing Luca Brasi’s number over and over again as Sonny requests it, simply waiting to make the next call.

“I’ll deal with Tattaglia, you leave that with me,” Sonny points at his chest. “He’s got nothin’. Both of the bastards have it coming, right? What do you think, Vic?”

Sitting next to your husband, you purse your lips in disapproval. “I don’t think so, Sonny. With Tattaglia it seems too personal.”

“She’s got a point,” Tom nods back.

“Does that mean you’re gonna kill all those guys?” Michael asks, calmly spoken in comparison to the hectic ongoing chatter.

You glance up Michael just before Sonny gestures at him, brushing him off. “Hey, stay out of it for me okay, Mikey? Do me a favour, just stay out of it.”

“Sollozzo’s the key here, if we get rid of him then everything falls into place,” Tom adds, speaking towards Clemenza.

“In risk of starting another family war with Tattaglia and Barzini allied,” you counter. “It’s never going to be that easy.”

“Don Ferrari could do it,” a harmless suggestion from Clemenza’s behalf.

“Nah, come on—” Sonny scoffs, shaking his head. “No, no, we got Vic’s brothers helpin’ us, I ain’t getting the Don mixed up in all of this. Not while Pop’s still in the hospital.”

“Matteo may know of their connections, so I could get through to him,” you offer, “he always set up the meetings my father had between Sollozzo and his men.”

“Your father knows Sollozzo that well?” Michael speaks up.

“Does it matter?” Sonny scoffs, answering for you. “You still don’t know what’s going on, so stay out of it, kid.”

“As long as Luca didn’t sell out,” Tom mumbles under his breath.

“Go on, give him another call, Mike.” Sonny gestures towards the phone, “don’t stop ringing it either. If Luca sold out, we’re in a lot of trouble, I’m tellin’ you. A lot.”

“Luca wouldn’t,” you lace a hand with your husband, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Anyone but Luca. I wouldn’t believe it. He’s been grandfathered into this whole thing.”

“Mm, I don’t wanna believe it either, baby,” Sonny tugs on his curls, slouching in his seat. “But something in my gut tells me this ain’t a coincidence that Luca’s not getting back to us.”

“I’ve been trying to get in touch with Luca all night but I think he’s shacked up,” Clemenza shrugs his shoulders.

“He ain’t home yet?”

“He outta be. Mikey come on, ring the damn number already,” Sonny begins to grow agitated.

“It’s ringing,” Michael holds the telephone up to his ear, putting a new cigarette in the corner of his mouth.

“Doesn’t matter now if Luca ratted out or not, we have to think about father,” you speak up.

“That’s right,” Sonny rubs his thumb over the back of your hand. “Tom, you’re the consigliere. What are we gonna do if the old man dies? God forbid.”

“If we lose the old man…” Tom ponders the question—a frown growing over his lips. “We lose our political protection and half our strength. Like Victoria was saying, there’s loyalty grandfathered in here to the family but it all goes to the old man. Not us, and with that the other families might just support and go along with Sollozzo to avoid another long, messy war. It’s almost 1946, Sonny. You know nobody wants bloodshed anymore. If your father dies, you make the deal, Sonny.”

“Easy for you to say, Tom,” Sonny points an accusing finger at his step brother. “He’s not your father.”

“Sonny,” you frown, gently tugging on his arm. “Don’t.”

“I’m as much a son to him as you and Mike,” Tom hides the hurt in his tone from Sonny’s words. “You know that.”

Sonny sighs deeply, returning his attention to Michael who shakes his head and sets down the telephone again. “No answer.”

Just then, the sound of knocking can be heard over the back door—attracting everyone’s attention.

“What is it?” Sonny leans his head back. “Hey, Paulie, what do yo u want? Vic, c’mere.”

“Sonny, it’s okay—”

“The hell it is,” Sonny pulls you up out of your seat by your hips, moving you to his side. “C’mere. With the shit going down tonight I don’t know who to trust. Don’t sit by the door, baby. Paulie, come on.”

“Paulie, I thought I told you to stay put,” Clemenza furrows his brows.

Paulie enters, somewhat out of breath. “I know, but there’s a guy at the front gate out there and he said he had a package.”

“A package? What package?” Sonny stares at Paulie. “Tessio, go on. Let the kid stay in here.”

“Yeah, I got it,” Tessio rises to his feet, quietly exiting.

“You want me to hang around?” Paulie asks awkwardly, glancing around the room.

“Yeah, I want you to hang around,” Sonny says forcefully, keeping a hand over your thigh as you sit on the armrest of his seat. “You okay or what?”

“Yeah,” Paulie coughs into the crumpled up napkin in his hand. “I’m fine.”

“Okay, you look like shit,” Sonny points out. “You want some food or something? You hungry?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” Paulie refuses, wiping his nose.

“Sweat that thing out then, go have a drink. Brandy will do you good. Vic,” Sonny glances up at you, “we still got the bottle of brandy in the kitchen?”

“Mhmm,” you nod back.

“Okay good,” Sonny points towards the door. “Go on, get some. It’ll be good for you.”

“Yeah, okay,” Paulie awkwardly accepts, shuffling towards the kitchen. “I’ll go get some then.”

From the moment the door closes behind Paulie, Sonny’s grip tightens over your thigh as he points towards Clemenza with his free hand. “I want you to take care of this son of a bitch right away, you got that? Paulie sold out the old man. I know he’s the one behind it. You better make that the first thing on your list, you understand?”

“Understood,” Clemenza responds quietly.

“And Mikey,” Sonny turns to face his youngest brother, “tomorrow you and Luca can get some of his guys and drive around Luca’s place—scour it out and see.”

“Listen,” Tom holds his hands up, “I don’t think we should get Mikey mixed up too directly in this, Sonny. It’s not a good idea.”

“I agree,” you speak up, making eye contact with Michael. “It’s too much. He shouldn’t get that close.”

“Yeah, yeah, alright then,” Sonny relaxes, sighing. “Then hang around the house a bit, make the calls and help.”

Michael nods back, remaining silent.

Tessio comes back into the room only a split second later, balancing a heavy wrapped up package in his hands. “Says its for you, Sonny.”

Sonny stares at the package Tessio places on his lap. “What the hell is this?” He unwraps the packaging, revealing a soaked bulletproof vest wrapped around two fresh fish.

“It’s a Sicilian message,” you reply, staring in disdain at the fish and recognizing it’s the vest Luca would always wear doing jobs for Vito and Clemenza’s men. “It means Luca Brasi sleeps with the fishes.”

“Oh, Jesus…” Tom mutters under his breath. “He’s dead. They killed him.”

Furrowing his brows, Sonny gazes up at you, slowly shaking his head. “They got him too.”

[obsessedwithceleste]

Lessons in Love

(Or why Enzo should be banned from advanced potion making)

Theodore Nott x Ravenclaw Reader

Summary: Ft. Enzo being bad at potions, the Ravenclaw common room door, and more than one accidental love confession.

word count: 3.3k

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

A deep sigh escapes your lips as you walk purposefully through the empty halls of the castle. You loved Enzo. Really, you did. But how that bastard had managed to squeeze enough O.W.Ls out of his arse to get into advanced potion making was absolutely beyond you.

It’s not that you thought your childhood best friend was dumb per se. You simply thought his talents lay elsewhere. Like in herbology. Or anywhere really where adding a pinch too much powdered moonstone didn’t result in a glittery pink potion exploding all over the front of your robes. This never would have happened of course, if your usual, equally talented, potions partner, Theodore Nott, had actually bothered to show up, but god only knew where that boy had wandered off to.

Walking into classes earlier that day you had been giddy with excitement. While potions may not have been Enzo’s forte, it was most definitely yours and advanced potions was finally giving you the challenge you had been craving. Amortentia, your professor had said, is the strongest love potion in the world, thereby making it exceptionally difficult to brew. You already knew this of course as it had all been detailed in the days readings. Not only would it make someone obsessively in love, but it also had an addictive scent, changing to fit what one was most attracted to. Now that was all well and good until one was covered in it.

Originally, you figured that all would be fine. Enzo profusely apologized, quickly following up with a joke about how “at least you’ll smell nice for once.” But oh how right he’d been. It started with students accidentally bumping into you in the corridor as you went from class to class as they subconsciously leaned in to follow the alluring scent. A minor inconvenience you thought. (Although you did have to choose to ignore that third year almost getting impaled on a statue’s sword because he wasn’t paying attention after you passed.)

But then Cho and Marietta couldn’t stop leaning in to get a whiff of the scent all throughout the start of charms, causing Flitwick to continuously shoot concerned glances at the three of you. You eventually caved, moving quickly and silently to the back of the class room where Enzo was sat with the rest of the Slytherins. As soon as he saw you making your way over, he leaned over, whispering something in Daphne’s ear beside him. She gives you a quick look of knowing pity before moving into the empty seats usually claimed by Theodore and Matteo who were, unsurprisingly, still no where to be found.

“For what it’s worth, I really am sorry,” Enzo mumbles, at least having the decency to look embarrassed as you plop into the seat beside him.

“This is horrible! I did not need to know that Marietta’s amortentia smells like bloody Cormac McLaggen or whatever his name is,” you hiss in response.

Enzo lets out a quiet chuckle, sneaking a quick glance at your house mate.

“Hey,” he whispers after a moment, “What do you smell anyway? You must be going mad having that stuff all over you.”

You shoot a glare at your friend. You had a sinking feeling he already knew, considering he had been poking fun at you for weeks. You shudder remembering all those disgusting kissy faces Enzo had been making at you from across the library just last week. Bloody bastard was fishing for confirmation. Maybe if you ignore him, he’ll simply go away you think to yourself. Enzo however, takes your silence as an admission of guilt, a grin spreading across his face.

“I knew it. So tell me y/n, what does dear Theodore Nott smell like? Cigarette smoke? Hippogriff dung?” He snickers.

“He is my best friend, Lorenzo,” you whisper, giving the boy beside you another withering glare.

Enzo’s face falls at this.

“I’m your best friend.” He grumbles.

“I don’t know why. You’re mean to me,” you reply with exasperation.

He immediately perks up again at this, giving you a slight nudge.

“So I’m right? You do like Theo?” He asks excitedly.

“Enzo, I will avada you, and make it look like an accident,” you hiss in response.

“Come on, y/n, I’m your best friend, you have to tell me these things,” he pouts.

“Oh really? Like how you have to tell me about how you’re probably smelling Daphne’s shampoo right now? Or is it her lavender perfume?” You ask innocently, batting your lashes.

Enzo goes beet red at this, gesturing wildly at you to lower your voice.

“Hush woman! She’s right there!” He hisses.

You say nothing, only giving him a triumphant grin before turning back to Flitwick to try to salvage what few notes you’d been able to take down that lesson.

The final straw occurred during ancient runes when poor, unsuspecting Hermione sat down behind you and asked with a look of bewilderment if you had been showered with Draco’s cologne that morning. Her look of absolute horror only grew as you told her of your distressing situation. You thought she might faint when she realized that Draco had been within earshot and now had a shit eating grin on his face. With a sigh of defeat, you give Hermione an apologetic smile before deciding it was time to turn in the white flag of defeat.

You breathe a heavy sigh of relief as you finally come to a stop outside your common room door. You then frown, realizing you had in fact, made it to your common room door.

“What makes a raven like a writing desk?” The metallic voice of the Ravenclaw common room door asks, springing to life.

This putrid, skanky little-

“You wouldn’t want me to shove either of them up your ars-“

A low whistle catches your attention before you’re able to finish cursing out your common room’s door thoroughly.

“Whoa there feisty, let the eagle be,” Theo’s voice laughs as he steps into view.

The strong scent of roasted coffee beans and smoke that had been burning your nostrils all day hits you once again like a ton of bricks. Giving the eagle another withering glare, you turn your full attention to the looming threat approaching. You would sooner throw yourself off of the astronomy tower than let Theo know that your amortentia smelled like him. Someone had to keep the boy’s bloody ego in check.

“Full offense Theodore, I’ve had a horrendously awful day today, and I really don’t have time for whatever nonsense you’re about to start.” You say with a roll of your eyes as you cross your arms at the boy in front of you.

Theo laughs again, mirroring your movements as he leans against one of the pillars lining the halls.

“Poor principessa. Have a hard day in classes without me?” He asks with a smirk.

You scowl in response. It didn’t help that you had, in fact, missed the brunette’s comforting, albeit annoying, presence all day, but you weren’t about to admit that.

“Now that you mention it, I didn’t even realize you were missing. What snake hole did you slither off to today?” You ask, the lie sliding easily off your lips.

Theo cocks as eyebrow at that but leaves it be.

“Matteo wanted to ditch, had to baby sit. Make sure he didn’t get into too much trouble. You know how it goes,” Theo replied shrugging his shoulders. “And what’s a pretty little witch like yourself doing skiving off class?”

Theo takes another step forward.

“Don’t come closer!” You yelp before you can stop yourself. You had no interest knowing what Theo would smell if he got close enough. He frowns at you however.

“And why not?” He challenges, taking another step towards you. This boy really did not take well to being told what to do.

“I- I smell. Really bad. Had to leave class, I just- ya know, smelled, so bad” You splutter, mentally kicking yourself. Who says that in front of the guy they like? Why were you like this?

Theo’s thick brows shoot up at your declaration before he takes a final large step towards you and leans in, pressing his hand against your forehead before moving it down to feel your cheek.

“Y/n are you ill? Do you need to go see Madam Pomfrey? I can walk you there if you’d like.” He says, any bit of snark his voice previously held long gone.

“I’m fine Theodore, really.” you say, batting his hand away.

“Are you sure?” He asks, looking at you disbelievingly.

He leans in again and takes in a whiff of your scent and you immediately tense, freezing where you are. God damn it. His brows furrow.

“Y/n, you smell perfectly normal, maybe a bit stronger than usual, but definitely not bad.” He says, looking even more confused.

Before you’re able to fully process the words that just came out of Theo’s mouth, Enzo and Pansy come barreling down the hall towards the two of you in a fit of giggles.

“Y/n! y/n, you know I’m sorry, really I am, but if dousing you in amortentia is all it takes to get Draco and Granger to make complete fools of themselves in front of each other, I’d do it again!” Enzo exclaims between breathy laughs. “You haven’t seen ferret boy run past, by chance, by the way have you?

“Sorry, amor-what now?” Theo asks, blinking as he purses his lips.

You look between the three of your friends in alarm, praying no one mentioned anything after Theo had just announced that you smelled perfectly normal to him.

“Oh, you’re going to wish you were there! After you left, Draco was so pleased with himself. Looked like a kid on Christmas. Kept trying to flirt with Hermione until she finally sent a flock of doves to run him out of the classroom! Professor wasn’t too happy bout that one. Let us go early to find the blonde loon,” Enzo says, completely ignoring Theo’s question.

“I’m sorry, amor-WHAT?” Theo asks again, louder this time.

You feel yourself cringe.

“Amortentia.” Pansy snorts. “Do try and keep up Teddy.”

“This is what you get for always skiving off class with Matteo,” Enzo adds, nodding at the boy as if he were his disappointed mother.

“Mhmm. Enzo totally floozied over y/n’s potion this morning. Blew it up all over her and she’s been having people wander up to her to take a sniff all day.” Pansy tells him with a sniff.

Theo blinks again before slowly meeting your eyes as what he said only moments earlier begins to sink in. Pansy, ever the cunning witch, was lightening quick to catch on.

“Speaking of which, I am suddenly so interested in what exactly it is that you smell, dearest Teddy,” Pansy says as her eyes flicker between the two of you, a mischievous grin growing on her face.

Theo scowls at the nickname.

“Campfire.”

“Old parchment.” You say in unison.

Pansy smirks.

“Do you smell that Enzo?” She asks, making a show of sniffing the air around her. “I think I smell- a liar. Or two.”

Enzo only snickers as he eyes the both of you up. He knew exactly what you had been smelling all day and you begin to feel panic rise up in your chest. You send a menacing glare his way, daring him to open his mouth.

“Come on Pans, I don’t think Draco and Granger are the only ones who’ll be chatting up tonight,” he says finally.

Glaring at the pair’s disappearing backs, you once again turn slowly back to the problem at hand.

“Soo,” Theo starts at the same time you blurt out,

“This is entirely your fault.”

Theo’s mouth drops open, and he has the audacity to look offended.

“How do you figure mi amore?” He asks.

“You’re supposed to be my partner in potions, but you weren’t there today, so I had to work with,” you shudder, “Enzo.”

Rolling his eyes at your dramatics and giving you a small smile, Theo lets himself relax, leaning on the wall as he towers over you.

“Enzo isn’t so bad,” he says, slowly bringing a hand up to rest on your waist, gently moving you towards him. You pretend not to notice, taking a small, nervous step forward.

“He singed off Matteo’s eyebrows last year. The year before that, he didn’t realize there was a difference between fire flower and fired flour, and his potion melted through the floor. I heard a Puff call him Slytherin’s Seamus,” you retort. “Do you realize how bad you have to be at something to get made fun of by a Hufflepuff?” He snorts at that, cocking his head in agreement.

“Well I’m sorry alright? I’ll make it up to you.”

“You’ll have to. I have to go in again to remake the potion. Don’t want that bad mark on my grade.”

Theo only hums at this, as you’re finally standing nose to chest with him, forcing you to tilt your head up to still see his face.

“You really do smell nice,” he murmurs, pressing his nose lightly into your hair.

You make a face before nuzzling into his chest to hide the redness growing on your cheeks.

“I’m not talking about this in public. I simply refuse,” you say, trying to melt into him from pure embarrassment.

Theo looks down at you with a devilishly handsome grin before turning back to your long forgotten common room door.

“Hey, open up. She technically answered your little riddle earlier,” he tells the door.

The eagle grumbles something unintelligible as it starts to life again.

“I can always melt you down. I’m sure you’d make a great piss pot,” Theo threatens, going to pull out his wand.

The door swings open rather violently and you’re pretty sure you can hear a rather colorful string of curses come out of the eagle’s beak as you make your way inside. Having been there a thousand times before, Theo easily leads you to your shared, but thankfully empty, dorm room, closing the door behind you.

“You really don’t get along with that eagle, do you principessa?” He asks, throwing his shoes off and making himself comfortable on your bed like he usually did.

“Like you’re any better. You just threatened to turn it into a chamber pot,” you retort, falling easily back into your usual banter. This was fine. This was safe.

Theo only raises a brow at you.

“The blasted door is still mad at me for making a ur mum joke when it asked me if a chicken came before the egg in front of a bunch of second years.” You admit, letting your arms fall to your side.

Theo lets out a loud laugh at that shaking his head and extending his arm for you. You walk carefully towards the bed before hesitantly accepting his invitation. It’s not that cuddling with Theo was something unfamiliar to you, as much as you were hyper aware of the slightly awkward tension between the two of you that wasn’t usually there. You slide your shoes off as well before curling up next to him and laying your head on his chest. The two of you lay in silence and you slowly let your eyelids flutter shut, lost in the feeling of Theo’s chest rising and falling.

“You know. You still haven’t told me what your amortentia smells like,” Theo says, finally breaking the silence as he gently brings his hand up to run his fingers through your hair.

“Take a wild fucking guess,” you murmur, refusing to open your eyes and determined to get further lost in his warm touch.

He only hums in response, continuing to comb his fingers through the soft locks of hair.

“You know when Enzo asked me if I smelled you today, he thought you’d smell like hippogriff dung,” you say eventually.

“Fucking tosser. What did that git smell? Wild lavender?”

“And Daphne’s shampoo.”

You feel Theo snort as if he expected no less of your ever romantic best friend. Silence once again rolls over the both of you as you absentmindedly play with the edge of his shirt, rolling the soft fabric between your fingers nervously. The quiet begins to feel suffocating, so you open your mouth to speak, but Theo beats you to it.

“Champagne. And that perfume you always use. With the little white flowers. Lilies of the valley, right?” Theo says.

You open your eyes to look at him in confusion.

“That’s what you smell like.” He says, carefully running his hand down your spine, sending a shiver through you.

“I smell roasted coffee. And smoke. Not the fire-y kind though. The kind that sticks to your clothes cause you refuse to quit smoking.” You respond, looking into his eyes warily for his reaction.

Theo only smirks in response, a cocky grin spreading across his face.

“Aw mi amore, I’m what you’re most attracted to?” He asks, the teasing bait evident in his voice.

You feel heat rise to your cheeks as Theo gazed intently down at you in his arms.

“Shut up Theodore. You sure know how to ruin a moment,” you say, once again burying your face in a chest.

You feel his chest rumble with laughter before his hand snakes it way up to your chin, tilting your head up and capturing your lips with his. His lips are softer than you imagined as he moves them gently against yours. You let a soft gasp escape and Theo pulls you closer, gripping your waste tightly, and shifting you on top of him, deepening the kiss until you’re both left gasping for air.

“Was that more of what you had in mind amore?” He asks with an innocent smile, looking up at you with what you could only describe as his best baby seal eyes.

“I mean, you were definitely significantly more shirtless when I imagined it, but I can settle.” You joke.

Theo’s eyes darken however, and he lifts you as if you weigh nothing, flipping you over so that he now hovered above you, your back pinned against the bed beneath you. With one swift movement, Theo pulls his shirt up and over his head before lowering himself back down, his chest now pressed against yours.

“Better?”

You can’t help but laugh at the boy’s determination as your eyes shamelessly take in the lean muscle and tanned skin that was current above you.

“Theodore, as much as I enjoy this, you have to put your clothes on. Cho or Marietta could walk in at any time,” you tell him as you begin to make soft circles across his waist line with your thumbs, admiring the boy in front of you.

“Mm. You mouth is saying one thing, but these,” he says, placing his hands over yours, “are saying something else entirely.”

You roll your eyes, pulling your hands out from under his and handing him his discarded shirt.

“One kiss?” He asks, looking at the shirt as if it had mortally offended him.

“One kiss.”

He leans down, once again capturing your lips with his, but with more intensity this time. You feel one of his hands brush your waist as his thumb pushes up under your shirt, the rest of his hand following soon after, gripping tightly at the warm skin beneath. You let out a breathy moan when he flicks his tongue across your bottom lip, and he takes it as an invitation to let his tongue explore the rest of your mouth.

An awkward cough shakes you from the haze and you look up, over Theo’s shoulder to see Cho standing guiltily in the doorway.

“Sorry,” she says, looking literally anywhere but you and the shirtless boy above you. “Bad time?”

You cover your eyes in embarrassment, feeling heat once again rush to your cheeks.

“What did I tell you!” You groan, letting your head fall back onto your mound of pillows. Meanwhile Theo has a much too self satisfied grin across his face.

[elllteo]

Matteo is Not computer literate. But it's deserved teasing/smug bragging because Matteo constantly teases Ellis about being "old" (he's in his 40s and matteo is in his 30s) so honestly Ellis is valid here. Smug, a bastard, but valid.

Matteo can fwip his ears up and down angrily about how attracted his is to Ellis all damn day its fine <3

[knowledge-paradox]

thinking about Luca and Matteo

two sides of the same coin that didn't last long enough.

on one hand, Matteo fought for the person he loved. He's stubborn and reckless, always into his head and finds changing too difficult.

on the other hand, Luca fought for his own selfishness. He's a loudmouth bastard that realized he was wrong and tried to change for the best.

Luca, someone who acknowledges his mistakes, was killed by Matteo, who was too scared to do so

And meanwhile Luca threatened death at his own risk and lost, Matteo died because of something that he didn't even do.

[calyxthenerd]

Me, talking about Matteo: I love him so much, he’s such a piece of shit, he’s so romantic, he should be in jail, he’s adorable, fuck you italian bastard